The Devilish Marquis by Karla Hocker

Author:Karla Hocker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 1989-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

It was not to be supposed that Nell’s first lesson with Hugh turned into a success. In a belated attempt to minimize the presence of a male at her ladies’ academy, she had chosen her study as the place of instruction. The cozy if timeworn chamber was furnished with a battered desk pushed beneath the only window, four easy-chairs, a fireplace surmounted by a carved oak mantel, and bookshelves covering one wall and the narrow spaces on either side of the door. Surely it was a place to make any gentleman feel at home.

Hugh, seated at the desk with Nell, remained oblivious to the study’s charming qualities. He showed himself irritable and impatient when Nell explained some of the vagaries of the Spanish language. And Nell, who had successfully dealt with a gaggle of disinterested girls in Bath and could claim unqualified success for her lessons with Miss Simms, felt unaccountably ill at ease.

Only Cyprian Westcott, lounging in a deep leather chair in front of the narrow fireplace, seemed happy with his lot. But then, he did no more than flip through the pages of a book of engravings while Hugh struggled with verbs and nouns of a foreign tongue.

Every so often Cyprian would thrust the poker into the grate, where several logs burnt in a desultory fashion, or bestow a careless glance upon pupil and teacher. It was, no doubt, that occasional look, so carefully schooled into blandness, which contributed to the air of restraint hanging over Hugh and Nell. She, at least, was convinced of it and without hesitation apportioned the blame to Devil Mackenzie, who had sent Cyprian to play chaperon.

Barely half an hour had passed when she pushed aside her Spanish notes. “I have a mind to play cards. Let’s continue our lesson tomorrow.”

Hugh was not unwilling. “But mind you have a proper chaperon. Ellsworth must be queer in the attic if he believes Westcott can fulfill that role. In fact, you shouldn’t let any man set foot inside the house until Mrs. Wainwright arrives.”

“I’ll have Wicken guard the door.” Nell shot him a dark look. How priggish he had become. In fact, both Dev and Hugh were dead bores with their constant preaching of propriety.

From a desk drawer she took a pack of cards, rather the worse for wear from her practice sessions with Wicken, and started to shuffle. “What’s your pleasure, Hugh? Piquet?”

“I say!” Cyprian closed his book. “Aren’t you going to include me in the game?”

“You don’t deserve it, Cyprian, but I suppose we could play three-handed whist. I warn you, though. Hugh never plays for fun. A shilling a point is his minimum.”

“Not when I play with you,” protested Hugh. “If you must lose your money to me, let’s make it penny points.”

“A shilling,” Nell said firmly, her mind on the sums of money she planned to win from Cyprian and Dev.

Cyprian pulled his chair against the narrow side of the desk opposite Hugh and, withdrawing his arm from the sling, declared himself ready for action.

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